


Fabricated Security

by Superpennyable



Series: Fabricated Security [1]
Category: Flashpoint (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Gen, Shame
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-25 22:42:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15650391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Superpennyable/pseuds/Superpennyable
Summary: When the world is crushing down around him in a matter of seconds, Wordy's usual upbeat personality is now threatened before his leader and someone who could easily tear him away from the one thing he loves.TW: Mention of death, panic





	1. Part 1: Wordy

This is all I have..." He choked out, hoping to God that this man have a simple ounce of sympathy for him, that the reputation of destroying teams was just a rumor that's been passed around. 

 

"Put your hands out, please."  The voice called out, riding on a faint hint of annoyance towards the end of his command.

 

Wordy was forced to oblige, slowly putting his hands out parallel to each other. He could feel the wave of shame wash over him, something he didn't think would come from a simple instruction.

 

They started to shake instantly. It became harder to swallow.

 

And focus.

 

_It's gone. Everything’s going to be gone.. It’s over… I failed them…_

 

Something is pounding in his ear, in a steady but fast rhythm. He gets a urge to rip every monitor off of him and walk away. He wants to walk away and just wake up, to have this be all a silly nightmare that his mind decided to put in there.

 

But he knew this wasn't a dream, no matter how wished it was.

 

His stomach is getting butterflies. Motors were in his arms now, shaking rapidly. He suddenly realizes the pounding in his ear was his blood pumping through his body. And that his throat was beginning to become sore from repressing the sob that was going to come out at any moment.

 

So much for showing that he could be strong. 

 

Wordy's hands has now left from the air and is now rested over his eyes, covering them in a sad attempt to recover some dignity, to show that he is tougher than he looks. But of course, any evidence of that was quickly fading as his mind took off to send him in a further road of panic as his mind started to replay thoughts that he had prayed would go away, that did go away until today, when this man decided to become a investigator and break him down question by question about his life, his focus no longer on his shaking form.

 

_Make it stop, please. Everything is failing me. I can't lose this battle, not now..._

 

“Stop... Stop….” His voice barely called out before letting out a choked sob. He felt helpless, he just wants this torture to be over with already, but he doesn't even know how to stop it. He can already

imagine what he looked like to Toth. Weak. Unwilling. Cowardly. Everything that no one wants in a officer, and what this man seems to pick at.  Everything that he was portraying at the time unwillingly. 

 

He feels a hand on his shoulder, than another on his other shoulder. He knew it was someone familiar because of the grip they had on him. Firm but gentle, like a very caring father. At the moment, comfort is what he needs right about now, especially since he just wants this to be over with and he just instinctively leans into the touch, his head landing on a chest.

 

This was new. He never really freaked out like that before. Sure, he had his moments of panic set in, but it never got to the point where his body and his mind just quit on him.  At least someone cares about him.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Part 2: The Doctor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor's Point of view

_“The Team Destroyer.”_

This is the nickname Dr. Toth was crowned ever since he’s been doing these evaluations around each year for the Strategic Response Unit. And yes, he won't lie, his evaluations had lead to some of the teams to disband and be transferred to other teams or, if it was necessary organizations like the Guns and Bones.  But he doesn't do it on purpose. He was just doing his job. There can't be leeway in these observations for any of the teams. The last thing he needs is for a obvious problem to be purposely ignored for emotional reasons like relationships, friendly or intimate, only for that ignorance to blow up right back in his face. So he doesn't let emotions get in the way of his observations of the team, no matter how much is revealed in the process.

Usually.

That doesn't mean he isn't human.

While he does succeed in being harsh and cold when giving these observations, the aftermath when he is alone hits him like a brick, and he breaks down in a mess. He doesn't know why he keeps doing this if he makes him act like this afterwards.

_But then again_ , he wonders , _can anyone do this job so easily?_

It still bothers him. 

He’s frozen in shock at how this quickly fell apart.

Wordsworth is having a anxiety attack. A full on anxiety attack with heavy breathing, the crying, the tension that heavily surrounded the room. Everything that they constantly portrayed on the TV screens and radio dramas in overdramatic fashion was happening in front of his eyes. 

He had to pry in and force himself into their lives. Not because he wanted to, but for the sake of the police force.  Or at least, he’s convinced that's what it is he’s doing.

His shock was ruined by loud clattering and flat tones, making  the psychiatrist turned around to see the now moving Greg Parker unhooking everything from his body and a face of pure worry settled on him.

For a moment, he had truly forgotten the Sargent was there.

He also wondered why he didn't move as well. 

Toth didn't mean for it to go this far. He knew he was getting rough on Wordsworth, but he needed cooperation from him to see if he was alright. 

How he could be so calm as this man in front of him is falling into pieces, in total fear of what's to come? This man, who have saved lives, was shot multiple times in his career, now broken down into a wreck.

And it was all because of him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Hey...  
> So this is a story I wrote a long time ago as part of a crazy idea where instead of Parkinson's Disease, he has an anxiety disorder that causes tremors in his hand and doesn't show up until he's through with work or he's under a whole lot of stress. He usually hides his hands and the worst that it gets is sometimes some dark thoughts gets into his head and he freaks out. (Kind of like me.)   
> But he never really told anyone because he's under the impression that "hey, PTSD is serious but worrying a lot about nothing and having a slight nervous tick? NAH!" and so most of the team just calls him the second "Mom" of the group.
> 
>  
> 
> Im coming up with a solid series as I go, I have kind of a few stories about this....


End file.
